Father and Son
by IMTheresa
Summary: Set prior to the series start. Dean and John are working their first job with Sam off to college and the job could prove to be very dangerous for Dean.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. _

_And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: I've got a school break coming up in a couple of days and things have been fairly calm this week, so I thought I'd get started on the next idea. As always, thanks to Kelli for many things, including her diligent typo-hunting._

_I'm always interested in your thoughts so review away! _

**Father and Son**

**Chapter One**

"Yeah, Dad?"

"You about ready to go?"

"Almost."

"Hurry it up."

Dean waited another moment before tossing the covers off. He and John were supposed to be on the road this morning, headed for some town whose name Dean couldn't remember, to investigate a haunting. It was the first job they were working without Sam and Dean wasn't even used to the idea that his brother was gone yet.

"I'm going to put gas in the car. Be ready when I get back." John called from the living room.

"Yes, sir." Dean muttered, just loud enough. He looked at the bed his brother had slept in until two days ago. He hated the thought that his little brother was somewhere he couldn't keep an eye on him, but he hated it even more that in a fit of anger, John told him to leave never come back. He would never forgive his father for that, but he would continue to take his father's orders.

Dean took a quick shower and threw the few toiletries onto the bed before grabbing his duffle bag from the closet. He saw the envelope at the bottom of the bag before he started tossing things in. He knew it was a letter from Sam and he didn't want to read it. Not now. Not yet.

He wanted to be angry with his brother, but he couldn't quite manage it. Sam was smart. He was scary smart sometimes and he could do anything he put his mind to. Dean had known for some time that Sam wasn't happy hunting the supernatural beings they spent their lives chasing, but he never expected Sam would leave the family. Until his brother told him about being accepted to Stanford, he didn't know that he had been applying to colleges.

Dean wasn't sure what bothered him more; Sam being gone, banished by their father, or having orchestrated leaving without Dean knowing anything about it. Dean thought they talked about everything, that there was nothing they didn't know about each other. It hurt him to find out Sam applied to college and figured out how to pay for it without so much as a word to him.

"Dean?" John called as he walked into the apartment.

"Here." Dean came from the small bedroom he'd shared with his brother with his duffle bag. "I'm ready."

"You're running a little slow this morning, Son." John said as they got into the car. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Dean said quietly, angry that John wouldn't even realize he might be missing Sammy.

They stopped at some nondescript motel late that night. Conversation during the day was stilted and forced -- disintegrating to muttering and one-word sentences only when absolutely necessary. John understood exactly what was going on but had no idea how to change things. Sammy forced his hand; he'd given the boy an ultimatum and Sammy made his own choice. Dean would just have to accept that and move on.

They arrived in the small North Dakota town late in the afternoon of their second day of driving. If conversation was difficult in the beginning, it was downright impossible as the time wore on. Dean couldn't stop thinking about his brother; where he was and what he might be doing. He hoped the kid was keeping himself safe. He became more and more angry that John not only let him go, but demanded he never return and by the time they checked into the only motel in town, he was about ready to blow. He couldn't wait until he was face to face with whatever evil thing had brought them to town. After they finished the job, he intended to find the nearest bar, because every small town had at least one, and find some way to work off the anger.

"We're working this job for Caleb." John said, in the motel room. "At first he thought it was a simple haunting, but he's not so sure now."

Dean said nothing, knowing his father would continue without any prompting. Besides, he'd heard the story before. He sat down on the edge of one of the beds and began to inspect their weapons.

"The town has a haunted house legend; an old farmhouse that no one has lived in for years. It was the teenage hotspot for years, not exactly with the consent of law enforcement, but the sheriff shut it down a few weeks ago when some kids fell over the stair railing from the second floor. The windows have been boarded up, locks and chains put on the doors. Caleb did some research and found that other kids have died in similar accidents over the years, in and around the property. But it's in a pattern – two or three kids every ten years."

John paused and looked at his son. Normally Dean would have been intent on every word, his eyes glistening with anticipation. Now he merely stared at the weapons as he inspected and cleaned them. He knew when that when the time came he would be able to count on his son, but had no idea how to handle the anger and silence. He figured if he waited long enough, Dean would come around.

"No one has lived in the house for about thirty years; not since Jackson Border died. His father built the house about twenty-five years before that and it was rumored he was into some kind of black magic. Until he bought the land, it hadn't been fertile. While he lived in the house, a crop never failed. Jackson wasn't so lucky and when he died he owed everyone in town money. The bank owns the property but, because of the local legend, can't find a buyer. I figured we'd go there tonight, see what we can find and get rid of it." John said. "Could be he's haunting the house, or whatever his father was into is still there."

"Fine." Dean said simply.

Not exactly sure what they were up against, they brought holy water, guns loaded with rock salt and a book of incantations used for exorcisms. John parked the car just outside the back door to make sure it wasn't seen from the road and to have it close by in case they needed additional supplies.

He watched as Dean walked toward the house. His gait was longer than usual, his stance outside the door more purposeful. He wrongly assumed that Dean was just as angry at Sam as he was. It never occurred to him that he was the object of Dean's anger.

"Be careful, Dean. We don't know what's in there." he said, joining his son on the back porch.

Without a word, Dean picked the lock on the door and went inside, John close behind. The EMF reader that Dean fashioned out of an old Walkman was going crazy; there was definitely some kind of paranormal activity going on in the old farmhouse. After a brief search of the first floor, they split up as John headed upstairs.

John looked around slowly and carefully, shivering a little as the temperature suddenly dipped when he walked into a bedroom. He was about to call for Dean when he heard his son yell from downstairs. Before he could move, he heard a loud crash.

"Dean!" he yelled racing down the stairs. "Dean, where are you?"

John turned in the direction of another crash and found Dean on the floor, leaning against a wall.

"Dean?" John knelt down next to him, but kept an eye on the room. "Wake up, Son. Tell me what happened."

John shook Dean lightly. He felt the temperature in the room fall and it took all his strength to pull his attention from his son to assess the situation. He didn't see anything, but the EMF reader Dean dropped was exhibiting all sorts of activity. He wished Sam was here to get Dean back to the safety of the car while he finished the job, but that wasn't going to happen. John saw some old books fly from a shelf, crashing angrily against the wall and when the window exploded inward, showering him and Dean with glass, he knew he had to do something to protect his son.

"Come on, Dean." he said gruffly, pulling the boy to his feet.

Dean fell, limp, against his father. John shifted the weapons he was carrying and lifted Dean to his shoulder. He heard furniture shifting behind him as he raced from the room, but he didn't take the time to look back. He saw lights flashing in the house after he loaded Dean into the passenger side of the car. He had assumed there was no power going to the house, but he knew he hadn't seen enough lamps to be causing what he was seeing now. The few pieces of furniture left in the house were mostly broken and he couldn't believe the lamps were in any better condition.

Once he was a safe distance from the house, John pulled to the side of the road to examine his son. He saw no signs of major injury and sighed in relief when Dean started to wake up.

"What happened?" he asked groggily.

"We ran into a few problems." John said, more gently than he'd spoken to Dean in years. "I want to get you back to the motel."

"I'm fine." Dean sat up straighter, but the movement caused him to groan in pain.

"Remember what I taught you, Son. Sometimes you have to retreat and regroup. There's no shame in that."

Dean looked at his father, surprised, as John pulled back onto the road.

Back at the motel room, John checked Dean out again even though he insisted John was overreacting.

"Get some rest, Dean. I'm going to see what else I can find out about this house."

"Now? Where are you going?"

"Where do we often get the best information in small towns?" John asked.

"Bars and cafes."

"Right."

"I'll go with you." Dean offered, slowly getting up from the bed.

"No. You need to rest. You got pretty banged up."

"Dad –-"

"That's an order, Son."

Dean looked at his father. He would never disobey an order, but John was acting strange. Reluctantly, he nodded and sat back down. Before he left, John got an anti-inflammatory from the first aid kit and made sure Dean swallowed the medication.

"I won't be gone too long. You should probably take a hot shower; you don't want your muscles to stiffen up too bad."

Dean could only nod.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. _

_And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: This isn't a particularly long part but it's building, I promise. I should be able to update again before the weekend is out; my beta has some more to read today. For myself, I'm spending most of today at Qwest Field in Seattle where it's a country music fan's dream. Blaine Larsen, Gretchen Wilson, Big & Rich, Dierks Bentley, and Kenny Chesney. Yay! I may be in such a good mood tomorrow that I'll find it impossible to torture Dean further. Or I may be so tired that I'll want to torture him a lot more. Stay tuned!_

**Father and Son**

**Chapter Two**

Dean followed his father's advice and took a hot shower. He stood under the showerhead, the water beating on his back, thinking about John's reaction to the events of the night.

John wasn't completely unfeeling. He didn't like to see either of his sons in pain, but he normally didn't respond in such a gentle way. His usual tact was to be tough and not let either of them indulge in self-pity, but Dean always saw the concern in his eyes when he would clean their wounds and address other injuries. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen John react with such – tenderness – but even then, it had usually been reserved for Sam.

* * *

John walked into the first bar he found. It was almost midnight on Tuesday and the small place held only a few customers; mostly older men who probably spent a good part of the day on the barstools they now occupied. He got some suspicious looks, but mostly he was ignored.

"Can I get a draft?" he was surprised to see the bartender was a young redheaded woman.

The glass was set in front of him. "You've not been in here before."

John took a long swallow. "No. I'm just passing through town."

The bartender smiled at him. "You might want to find a place to hole up for the night. The radio just said there was a big storm rolling in."

"I noticed the wind was whipping pretty good. I got a room at the motel down the street."

"I bet ol' Gertie was shocked to get a customer. We're not exactly a tourist destination."

John smiled. "I'm not exactly a tourist."

Before too long, John found himself in a game of pool with two of the younger men in the bar. He liked small towns; once you had the trust of one person the rest usually fell into line. He got some interesting information and won a couple hundred dollars; neither one took a whole lot of effort.

* * *

When John returned to the motel room, he found Dean sitting up in bed flipping through television channels. John's journal was open on his lap.

"I brought you back a burger if you're hungry." he said, dropping a paper bag on the bed next to his son.

"Thanks. I raided the vending machine, but this smells good."

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay. I'll be ready tomorrow. What did you find out?"

John slipped out of his jacket and sat on the opposite bed. "I saw a pretty decent light show going on the house when we left; other people in the town have seen that, too."

"What do you think it means?"

"I'm not sure." John said thoughtfully. "But there's another story about the house Caleb didn't tell me."

"Oh yeah?" Dean asked, digging into the hamburger.

"Jackson Border's father was into something, at least that's the rumor, and he never had a crop fail. People in town think Jackson was into something Satanic, but not what his father was into. Jackson wasn't quite the farmer his dad was. He supposedly had a lot of interesting parties at the place after his father died. Supposedly there were animal sacrifices and other fun things like that." John took his journal from Dean and paged through it. "There was supposedly an altar set up in the basement, but who knows how close to the truth that is. Father and son may not have gotten along very well, either. There are a lot of stories about them getting into fights in town."

"What if Jackson and is dad are battling it out in the house?"

John looked up. "What?"

Dean shrugged. "If they didn't get along when they were alive, why would they get along any better dead?"

John smiled at his son. "That's a good thought."

Dean practically beamed.

"Let's figure out what to do with that tomorrow." John said putting the journal on the table that separated the beds. "I, uh, I think we need to talk about what happened earlier."

Dean felt like he'd been hit in the stomach. "Yeah, I'm sorry –"

John held up a hand. "No. What I mean is, we're used to having three people and we're going to have to do things differently with just the two of us. That was my fault."

Dean looked at his father; he didn't know what to say.

It only took a moment for things to change again. John started talking about two-man strategy and how they would have to be more careful going forward. Dean listened half-heartedly, the rest of the burger tossed into the trash.

He lay awake long after John was asleep, thinking about how different things really were going to be. It wasn't just the hunting strategies; the entire dynamic had to change. John's momentary attacks of compassion were more than a little confusing and Dean found himself wishing they would last longer.

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. _

_And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: Back from the concert and sunburned but happy. I got this back from the great typo-hunter, Kelli. Thanks, as always, for her help and encouragement. But seriously, I'm not a saint, Kel! I hope you guys like where this is going…_

**Father and Son**

**Chapter 3**

"Up and at 'em." John called as he walked into the motel room the next morning, carrying two cups of coffee.

Dean was awake, but hadn't bothered to get out of bed yet. He woke up when John left earlier and for the first time in a long while, he just wanted to sleep. He wasn't exactly a morning person, but he also wasn't one to lounge around wasting time. Before Sam left, the brothers would spend time each morning doing physical training. Dean enjoyed that time alone with Sam although he never really admitted that, even to himself.

"You okay?" John asked.

"Yes, Sir. I'm just running slow this morning."

John handed him a cup of coffee and sat across from him on the other bed. "I thought we could find the closest library and do some more research; see if we can find any newspaper articles about fights or other activity the Borders were involved in."

"Sounds good." Dean said, then took a long sip of coffee. He avoided his father's gaze and, after drinking more of the coffee, went into the bathroom to take a shower.

OOOOOOOO

The nearest library turned out to be in the next town, twenty miles away. They drove in an increasingly uncomfortable silence and, once at the library, went about their business separately. The newspaper archives weren't very helpful when it came to information about the family that had owned the land, but the more recent issues were full of stories about the strange occurrences at the house. They worked their way through the information, making notes as they went.

"How are you coming?" John asked later.

"I just got through the last one."

"How about we compare notes over lunch?"

Dean nodded. "Okay."

His son's behavior wasn't lost on John, but he didn't know what he should do about it. Talking things out wasn't something he was comfortable doing; besides he thought he knew what the problem was. He had always been very proud of the relationship his sons had and he realized that losing Sam would be difficult for Dean. He'd always been protective of the younger child, even before Mary died, but almost obsessive about it afterward. When Sam was old enough to participate in the hunts, John put Dean in charge of his training. He thought it would make them a stronger team, but he wondered now if that had been the right decision. Maybe there was such a thing as too close.

The conversation was easier once they were talking about the job. They compared the information they'd found and realized that, although there were some similarities in the stories, there was no real pattern standing out. The best theory they had was the one Dean came up with; that father and son were fighting within the house.

"Well," John sighed. "if that's the case, we can probably just find their graves and take care of this with salt and burning the bones."

"Seems like a lot of work for such a simple outcome. We could have salted and burned the bones without ever going to the house."

"It works out that way sometimes. Besides, we needed to investigate the house."

Dean nodded, dragging a French fry through a puddle of ketchup on his plate

"There's a cemetery back in town; we'll probably find them there."

"We should probably check the official records while we're here, though, so we don't waste any time."

"Good thought. Why don't I take care of that while you finish up here?" John said, noticing that half the meal Dean ordered was still on his plate.

"I'm done." Dean said.

John sat back in his chair. "Dean –"

When Dean looked at him, John was taken aback by the anger in his son's eyes. They stared at each other for several moments before John looked away. Dean could never remember that happening before, but he got no satisfaction from it.

"I'll meet you back at the library in a few minutes." he muttered.

John nodded. "Fine."

Dean had been angry at his father before, but never like this. When Dean was younger and denied something he wanted to do, he would get mad. He got annoyed when John wanted to involve Sam in something Dean didn't think he was ready for. But no matter what was going on, no matter how angry Dean was at his father, it had never been like this. Dean didn't understand his younger brother's desire to have a _normal_ life, but he would have let him go without a fight if it meant Sam would one day come back.

But John ruined everything.

John sent Sam away.

And now all Dean had left was John.

He loved his father and would gladly do anything he asked. Anything but give up Sam.

Disgusted, Dean pushed away his plate and went to the men's room. He leaned against the sink, staring into the mirror. He let John come between himself and his brother. He wasn't as angry with John as he was at himself and, realizing that, he smashed the mirror with his fist.

John saw the cuts on Dean's hand when they met back at the library, but decided to let it go for the moment. He could tell Dean had washed the cuts and because they couldn't dig up the graves until late that night, he knew there would be plenty of time to talk at the motel. The drive back was quiet.

OOOOOOOO

John walked into the room with a bucket of ice. As soon as they got back to the motel, Dean got out of the car and, inside the room flopped onto the bed with his back turned to the door.

"I got you some ice for your hand." John said, leaning over Dean and putting the bucket in front of him.

"Thanks." Dean muttered. He kept expecting John to order him to adjust his attitude and the longer it didn't happen, the angrier he became. He desperately wanted to scream at his father, but he knew that he never would. Besides, he was the one who let Sam down. He was the one who let the fight between him and John get so out of control. John sent Sam away, but Dean let it happen.

"You want to tell me what happened?" John asked, standing over the bed.

"No, Sir."

"Well, I want you to tell me."

"Are you going to order me to tell you?" Dean asked, sitting up and putting his hand into the bucket. He didn't want to admit any weakness to his father, but his hand was throbbing and starting to swell.

"Will that make a difference?"

Dean didn't answer

"Look, I know you miss your brother and I'm cutting you some slack because of that, but I'm about fed up with this attitude of yours. Sam is gone; it's time to move on."

Dean was livid. John was acting like Sam was just some expendable person they'd met; like Sam didn't matter and that he wasn't part of the family. And the worst part washe expected Dean to act the same way. But Sam wasn't expendable. He did matter. He wasn't just some person; he was the _most_ important person in Dean's life. He was Sam.

Dean wanted to scream at his father.

He wanted to throw him against a wall and hit him.

But instead, feeling cold inside and dead inside, he mumbled, "Yes, Sir."

OOOOOOOO

"Where are you going?" John asked Dean later, as his son put on his shoes and slipped into his jacket. It had been hours since either had spoken and the sound of John's voice seemed louder than it really was.

"Out for a walk; I'm restless."

"I want to head out to the cemetery by 9:00, so be back by then."

"I will."

John put down the book he'd been reading and went to the window to watch his son walk away. He'd been at the window of their apartment when Sam left and he couldn't help but think about that day. He knew he had allowed himself to become too angry; he never intended to forbid Sam from coming back.

Where Dean was always obedient, Sam always questioned. He was never satisfied and knew how to push all of John's buttons. All John wanted to do was keep his boys safe and he couldn't do that if they weren't with him. Sam didn't know all of the dangers he could face; John hadn't had time to teach him everything yet. He shared Dean's concern for Sam, but it was Sam's choice to leave and that was that.

John wouldn't admit that it hurt when Sam left. And he couldn't admit that he missed his boy.

_TBC_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. _

_And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: I'm trying something I've not done a whole lot of in other stories – some supernatural stuff. Go figure. I know what I've got going on here as far as the paranormal stuff isn't anywhere near the caliber that the show does, but I hope it's acceptable. Thanks, as always, to Kel and I hope you guys enjoy where we're going here._

**Father and Son**

**Chapter 4**

Dean walked around for a while, but ended up in the same bar where John had been the night before. He ordered a beer as he took up residence on one of the stools.

"Here ya go." The redheaded bartender smiled at him.

"Thanks." Dean grunted.

Normally Dean would have been flirting with her, but he wasn't interested tonight. He just wanted to finish the job he and John started, then get out of town. He was thinking about leaving John, at least for a while. He had thought about that before; going off on his own and living his own life. But he felt a fierce loyalty to his father and to the mission; deep inside he knew he would never leave. Sam having his own life would have to be enough because someone needed to help their father. Someone needed to be there if he got hurt. Someone needed to be there if he got too drunk. That someone had always been Dean and he knew that's the way it would always be.

John had promised that things would be better once they destroyed the demon that killed Mary Winchester. Dean believed him for a while, but eighteen years had gone by and they were no closer to finding it now than the night she died. As he sat at the bar, sipping his beer, Dean realized that John stopped making the promise. He couldn't remember when that happened.

Dean wondered, not for the first time, what things would have been like if Mary hadn't been taken from them. He was only four when it happened, but he had vague memories of fresh baked cookies and of playing catch with his father in the back yard. He remembered the sound of his mother humming and of his father's laughter. John didn't laugh much anymore.

They had been a normal family and things were even better when Sammy came home from the hospital. Dean was excited about being a big brother and remembered that day vividly. John came into Dean's room in the morning to get him ready, but he was already dressed in jeans and his favorite shirt, waiting on the edge of his bed. Dean still remembered being surprised by how little his new brother was and he was afraid Sammy would break the first time Mary let him hold the baby.

He also vividly remembered the night Mary died. John put Sammy in his arms and told him to run. From that day forward, Dean knew that he was responsible for his little brother's safety. So why didn't he protect his brother from John? Why had he let John send Sam away?

XXXXXXXXXX

John was standing at the window again when he saw Dean walking toward the room. It was almost 9:00 and he knew that no matter what was going on in Dean's head, his son would be back when he said he would be.

He didn't like the way Dean walked with his head was down and hands in his coat pockets. Normally his son walked confidently; ready to take on the world. John decided he would have to give Dean more structure to help him get over Sammy leaving, but in the back of his head, a small voice told him he should be more gentle and understanding instead. John ignored that little voice before and he would ignore it now. There was too much danger out there for gentleness. His boys needed to be strong to survive.

XXXXXXXXXX

The Borders had been buried behind the small church near the edge of town. It was relatively secluded but could be seen from nearby yards if someone happened to be outside and looking in the general direction of the cemetery. There was no moon out that night and the Winchesters would work with as little light as possible; they hoped the fire wouldn't alert anyone to their presence when they burned the bones.

John and Dean were lost in their own thoughts, walking through the cemetery to where the Borders were buried. They turned a corner on the dirt path and stopped in their tracks. A small group of people were standing in a circle, holding hands and chanting.

"What the hell?" John muttered. He and Dean moved to a more sheltered spot where they could watch the activity without being seen.

"Satanists or stupid kids?" Dean wondered out loud.

John watched for a few minutes. "Looks like they know what they're doing. Can you hear what they're saying?"

"No." Dean was involved in the job now and all the anger toward John had been pushed aside.

"I'm going to get closer."

Dean grabbed his shoulder. "There's no where to hide up there."

"Just keep an eye out." John looked at him. "Be careful and stay out of sight."

Dean watched as his father stealthily moved closer to the group of people. He hid behind a nearby tree that didn't provide a lot of cover, but Dean hoped it would be enough. He turned his attention back to whatever ceremony was happening in front of him and watched as the group slowly began to sway back and forth as the chanting continued. A few minutes later, John was standing beside him again.

"Come on," John whispered. "Let's get back to the car."

"What?"

"Come on." John said again as he walked away.

Dean followed, wondering what his father had seen or heard.

"I'm not exactly sure of all the details," John said back at the car. "but I'd bet they're performing an ancient returning to life ceremony."

"A what?"

"They're trying to bring the Borders back. One of them anyway. My guess is the father."

"For what?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. But whatever they're doing, we obviously can't get to the graves tonight."

"Shouldn't we stop them?"

John looked thoughtful. He had considered that, but they were vastly outnumbered. He noticed that most of the people in the circle were older men, but he didn't know what kind of powers they might possess. Normally being outnumbered didn't bother John very much since the Winchesters had weapons and skills the average person didn't have, but being outnumbered and not knowing what they were up against put them at a disadvantage.

"We don't know what we're dealing with. Let's get out of here and give Caleb a call."

_TBC_


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. _

_And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

**Father and Son**

**Chapter 5**

"John, thank God." Caleb said when he heard his friend's voice. "Are you and Dean all right?"

"We're fine." John glanced at his son, pacing in front of the window in their room. "What do you know about what's going on here?"

"I just found out – look, I never would have sent you there unprepared if I'd known –"

"Known what, Caleb?"

Dean stopped pacing and looked at his father. He was frustrated that he could only hear one side of the conversation and watched as John rubbed his forehead. That was never a good sign.

"Dad?" Dean prompted as soon as John hung up the phone.

"This is big, Dean. It's way bigger than the haunting Caleb originally thought it was."

"I thought he had changed his mind about that before we even got here."

John nodded. "He had his suspicions. Two or three kids die every ten years; patterns like that are rarely random hauntings. I can't believe --"

Dean watched as John stood up and began to pace. "Dad, what is it?"

"Societies all over the world practiced ritual sacrifices for good crops. Old man Border was doing the same thing. We don't know who or what he made the sacrifices to, but there were other people in town involved in it, too. Jackson didn't approve of what his father was doing; Caleb thinks he killed his father. You were probably right that the two of them were fighting it out in the house when we were there."

"So what about the people in the cemetery tonight?"

John shook his head. "Based on what Caleb found out, Border's farm pretty much sustained the town for a while. Jackson wouldn't continue with it and looks like he was murdered. So we've got two pissed off ghosts and a group of old men performing some kind of ritual in the cemetery. Caleb is pretty sure those are the same people who were originally involved with Border; they're trying to put his spirit back in his body."

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but closed it and flopped down on the bed. "You said those guys were old, but come on! They would have to be, what, at least 80 to be the same people who were involved with Border. Were they that old? And putting the spirit back in his body? Is that even possible?"

John shrugged. "Rumor has it."

"For what reason?"

"To make him stronger so he can fight something worse or get information he knows."

"What? I don't get it."

"Okay." John stopped pacing and sat on the bed opposite his son. "Border was involved in ritual sacrifice for crop success. Jackson doesn't approve and killed him. That pisses the old man off and he sticks around the house. The people Border were involved with want Jackson to continue with the sacrifices, but he doesn't, and they kill him. He's pissed off and sticks around the house, too. Those people in the cemetery could very well have been that old; I couldn't really tell. But whatever they were feeding hasn't been fed in a while and it's probably not real happy about that."

"But what about the deaths every ten years?"

"The theory is that they're still killing people for whatever it is, but only Border knew how to do the whole thing. They're killing kids, but they don't know what to do next, so the deaths are meaningless. But if they manage to reanimate Border—"

"Reanimate? Dad –"

"Dean, anything is possible. With the right ingredients and under the right circumstances, everything can be done. And if they reanimate him, he'll be able to finish the job after they kill the kids."

"So it's time to make another sacrifice?" Dean guessed.

"Seems so."

"But if they're so old –"

"Maybe they're scared that they'll end up somewhere they don't want to be when they die. That whatever they've let down will take its revenge then. They're probably afraid of running out of time."

"We've been involved in some weird stuff before, but this – this is crazy." Dean scratched his head. "What if they – reanimate – him tonight?"

John shook his head. "It can only be done at certain times of the month. There are some preparatory things they have to do first and Caleb thinks that's what we saw tonight."

"So what do we do?"

"Same thing we were going to do. Salt and burn the bones. Purify the house for good measure; maybe burn it down."

"Tonight?"

"Are you up for it?"

Dean nodded. "Sure."

"What about the thing they were making the sacrifices to?"

John looked at him. "Caleb is working on that."

The cemetery was empty when the Winchesters returned and there was no evidence anything had happened earlier. John handed Dean a shovel from the trunk and caught sight of his son's hands and the cuts they hadn't yet talked about. He pulled a couple of pairs of gloves from the trunk.

"Your hands all right?" John asked.

"Fine." Dean said, putting the gloves in a back pocket of his jeans. He started toward the graves.

"Dean?"

He turned to face his father. John saw none of the anger from earlier, nor did he see excitement about the job. His son's face held no expression, but he recognized the deliberate mask Dean wore because it was so similar to the one he had most of the time. But Dean's eyes could rarely lie and when John saw pain in them, he felt a pang of guilt.

"Be careful, okay? I know you're probably still sore from --"

Dean held up a hand. "I'm okay, Dad."

John nodded.

They each worked on one grave, knowing this would be their only chance to salt and burn the bones. Despite having done this countless times before, it still took time to dig far enough down to reach the coffins. Neither Winchester spoke as they dug; each had their own things to think about.

But when they were done, they stood side by side, exhausted and watching the bones burn. When they were sure the job was complete, John put a hand around his son's shoulders. Dean felt a sudden flash of anger, but also a certain amount of comfort. No matter what happened between John and Sam, Dean still loved his father and still needed his love and approval. He was never sure how much of either he had, but yearned for moments of closeness like this one.

"Let's go." John said quietly.

"Are we going to the house?" Dean asked when they were back at the car.

"It's almost dawn. Why don't we save that for later and get some sleep?"

Dean nodded. Even though he told John he was fine, he was still hurting from being slammed up against the wall and the hours of digging hadn't done his sore muscles a whole lot of good. He would never admit it, but all he wanted was a comfortable bed. The one at the motel would have to do.

_TBC_


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. _

_And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

**Father and Son**

**Chapter 6**

John woke up first. He took a shower, expecting Dean to be awake when he was done, but Dean was still sound asleep. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching his son. He remembered countless nights after Mary died that he would do the same thing; there were times when he stayed awake all night just watching his older boy sleep.

He worried about Dean after Mary died. He had been such a happy, playful child before the fire but he didn't talk for months after that night. He woke, screaming, from nightmares and the only time he seemed remotely content was when he was with Sam. John remembered many a night when he would find Dean had climbed into Sam's crib and fallen asleep with his arm protectively around the baby.

What have I done, he wondered.

He pushed himself from the wall a few minutes later and, after leaving a note for Dean, he left the room to get food and to call Caleb.

XXXXXXXXXX

"How did it go last night?" Caleb asked.

"Fine. We salted and burned the bones so the Borders are taken care of. It was almost dawn when we were done so we didn't go back to the house. We'll take care of that today."

"That doesn't sound like you, putting something off."

"We'd been at hit for hours."

Caleb paused, hearing something in his friend's voice. "What else?"

"Nothing. We'll do the purification ritual today. What have you come up with about the other half of the problem?"

"Nothing useable. They could have been making the sacrifices to anything. We just don't have enough specific information to know for sure. We might just have to let that go unless we can somehow get something out of the guys you ran into last night."

"I don't think they'd be too interested in talking."

"You're probably right, but I'm not sure what other option we have."

John sighed. He hated to leave things unfinished.

"But without Border, they can't do much."

"Except kill more people."

"As soon as they see those graves, they'll know they don't have any chance of getting Border back."

"You just want to take the chance that they'll give up?"

"I don't know what else to do, John." Caleb said. "At least not without some more information."

"Maybe I can persuade them to talk."

"You? Just you? What about Dean?"

"I, we. Whatever."

Caleb was unconvinced. "Dean okay?"

"Yeah."

"What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"With Sammy being gone."

"I'll see if I can find out who was in that group last night and try to get some information out of them"

Caleb knew their conversation was over.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean woke up to housekeeping knocking on the door. He asked for more towels, but told the maid they didn't need to have the room cleaned. He found John's note on the table, then went into the bathroom. He heard the television on in the room when he was finished with his shower and knew John was back. He almost wished there was a back way out of the bathroom so he could escape undetected. He'd thought some more about getting away when this job was done. He wanted to go to California to see Sam; to apologize for the silence that Sam would have taken as anger. Sam must believe that Dean had sided with John and that wasn't necessarily the case.

"Hey, Dad." Dean said as he came out of the bathroom. "Where'd you go?"

"Out for food. Did you see the note?"

"Yeah." Dean rummaged through his bag looking for something to wear.

"Are you hungry?"

"Don't we need to get to the Border house?"

"Not until you've eaten."

Dean sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm old enough to make some decisions for myself."

"I know you are." John said, pressing the mute button on the television remote control. "But I'm worried about you."

Dean stopped in mid-movement. It had been years since his father said he was worried about him. He knew it happened; he could see it in John's eyes sometimes. It was just surprisingly nice to hear the words sometimes.

"Dean."

He turned to face his father. John wasn't sure what his expression said.

"I know you're angry with me. And I guess I don't really blame you. But you're still my son and I want to work through this."

Dean blinked back unexpected tears and turned back to his duffel bag.

"I know." he said quietly. He nearly jumped a moment later when he felt John's hand on his back.

_TBC_


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. _

_And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: This is a longer chapter than you've been seeing. I've got the end written, it's been beta'd (thanks Kelli!) and I just want to make sure that's where I really want it to go before I post it. There will probably be at least one more chapter before the final one._

_I did a little medical research for this story, but don't hold me to anything. A little research does not equal a medical degree. _

_I'd love to know what you guys think of this. It's heading toward an alternate universe realm so canon be damned!_

**Father and Son**

**Chapter 7**

Because it was easier, and because it needed to be discussed anyway, the Winchesters talked about the job while eating the food John brought back. They decided which purification ritual to use, then John told Dean about his conversation with Caleb.

"How do you plan to find out who those men are?" Dean asked.

"Hanging out at the bar – or that diner down the street." John said. "I'm surprised that what we did last night hasn't been reported yet."

Dean shrugged. "Small town, not a lot of reason for people to hang out at the cemetery. We were there late enough last night that the people who could have seen it were probably in bed."

"You're probably right."

"Or maybe the sheriff knows about it but it hasn't gotten around yet."

"Like you said, though. It's a small town."

"Hard to keep secrets."

John nodded. "I picked up this food from the diner and it wasn't very busy, but there were a few people around. No one was saying anything about the cemetery."

"So when do you want to head out to the house?" he asked, pushing away the empty food containers in front of him.

"No time like the present, I guess."

XXXXXXXXXX

Purifying the house would take care of any spirits or miscellaneous within it; in effect it was the final step in ending the haunting. It could also, potentially, put an end to whatever the sacrifices were made to but John didn't hold out much hope for that.

They took their supplies into the house and took off in opposite directions so they could get the job done faster. John had an uneasy feeling about this house and he wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible.

He went from room to room, methodically working his way through the ritual. He didn't feel any better as he progressed than when he started. He had no special powers, other than an awareness of the paranormal, so his feeling wasn't a premonition, but he took it seriously nonetheless. As soon as he was finished, he went downstairs to find Dean.

"Dean?" he called moving through hallway. "Dean, where are you?"

When he got no response, he moved faster and called louder. He felt like he'd been punched in the stomach when he walked into what had been the dining room. Dean was pinned to the wall, blood flowing freely from his mouth and nose. John rushed forward, not considering what danger the room might hold. Dean's head was hanging forward and his eyes were closed. John touched him gingerly and turned in surprise when the room was plunged into darkness. It was late afternoon, too early for the sun to have gone down, and it had happened too quickly. He did the only thing he could think of and started the purification ritual again.

The room was filled with horrific screaming, the source of which John could not see. There were intense flashes of light, and the temperature in the room fell. John continued the necessary steps to cleanse the room. He didn't know how long he'd been at it but, just when he was sure it wasn't going to work, the sounds stopped and the room returned to natural lighting. He looked at Dean, now on the floor. It didn't matter to him if the job was finished or not; he had to get his son away from the house so he could assess his injuries and get him whatever help he might need.

He pulled Dean up and carried him to the car, which was parked outside the back door. He pulled over at almost the exact same location as the first time they'd come from the house to check Dean for injuries. He could feel a large bump on his head and there was no sign that he was going to wake up. The bleeding appeared to have stopped and he was more than just a little skilled in first aid, but John felt he had no choice but to take Dean to the nearest emergency room.

XXXXXXXXXX

John paced uncomfortably in the small emergency room waiting room. The nearest hospital was in the same town as the library he and Dean had used for their research and the drive seemed to take an eternity. John kept taking his eyes off the road to cast a worried glance at his son and more than once, he found himself nearly driving off the side of the road.

When asked what happened, John told the doctor that Dean was exploring an abandoned house and when he didn't come back when he was expected, John had gone to look for him finding him unconscious in the house. It was almost the truth and John explained it in such a way that the doctor didn't ask for any further details.

"Mr. Lewis?"

"How's my son?" John asked, almost not recognizing the name he'd used when filling out the paperwork.

"He's being prepped for surgery." the doctor said as kindly as one could break that kind of news. He went on to explain that Dean had some internal bleeding that needed to be stopped. He said that there was no reason not to be optimistic about the outcome, but cautioned John that the surgery was not insignificant. He was also somewhat concerned about the bump on Dean's head, but the tests hadn't revealed anything particularly troublesome.

After the doctor had gone, John quickly sat down in the nearest chair. He considered getting in touch with Sam, but decided he would do that only if things started to look dire for Dean. Instead he called Caleb and told him that no matter what, the job was over.

John paced for a while; he tried to drink coffee in the cafeteria and looked for other ways to distract himself. In the end, he passed the time in the waiting room.

The doctor came back to talk to John after the surgery was over. He said things had gone well and they were expecting Dean to make a full recovery, but reminded John that he was still concerned about the head injury.

"Can I see him?" John asked.

"Not quite yet. He's going to be in the recovery room for a while. I doubt you will, but you may as well take off for the night. It's going to be morning before you can see him."

"You're right." John said. "I'm not going anywhere."

The doctor nodded. "A nurse will let you know when you can see him."

XXXXXXXXXX

By mid-morning, John was going stir crazy. He was being kept apprised of his son's condition, but had not been allowed to see him yet. Dean was kept in recovery longer than normal because he remained unconscious even after the anesthesia should have left his body. The doctor had explained that, as he feared, Dean's recovery was being complicated by the head injury and there was no way to predict when he would wake up. Once he had been settled in the ICU around noon, John was allowed to see him.

It wasn't as if John had never seen Dean in a hospital bed before, but something about this time was especially worrisome. He stood across the room for several moments, taking note of how pale his son was and how small he looked in the bed hooked up to various monitoring machines. The ventilator almost brought him to his knees.

Eventually John moved closer and laid a hand on the side of Dean's head.

"I know you're strong enough to get through this, Dean." John said to him softly. "I know you are."

He stood next to the bed for a while then pulled a chair closer, having no intention of leaving his son alone in the hospital. The doctor and nurses came and went for the next few hours and no one suggested that John leave. They knew he and his son were from out of town and they could also see that he was staying out of the way. With Dean still unconscious, there was no real reason for the medical staff to make him leave.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Mr. Lewis," the doctor said after he looked at the latest results in Dean's chart. "Can we talk out in the hall?"

It had been two days with no signs of improvement and John was frustrated. He was also scared.

He gazed at his son and gently touched his cheek before following the doctor out of the room.

"Mr. Lewis, based on the latest evaluation – your son has slipped into a coma. That isn't necessarily a bad thing; it could just be his body's way of healing itself."

John rubbed his face. "I know about comas."

"We're going to keep him in ICU to monitor his condition. He's healing from the surgery and his vital signs are strong. There's no reason right now to think he won't come out of this coma." the doctor continued, "so if you know about comas, you know that it's important to talk positively to him. Patients have reported having very detailed memories of being in a coma. Mr. Lewis –"

"Thank you, Doctor. I – uh – I think I'll go back and sit with my son now."

"Mr. Lewis," the doctor called after him. "when your son does come out of this, he's going to need you. You should get some rest."

John nodded. "I probably should."

The doctor watched John as he walked back into Dean's room.

"Dean." John stood next to the bed. "Son, you know I'm not good at this, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure you get better. If Sam was here, he'd be able to sit next to your bed and talk to you for hours. You'd probably wake up just to tell him to leave you alone. You know if I called him, he'd drop everything to come here. I can't let him do that. I didn't want him to go, but now that he has, I can't ask him to come back. Not even for you."

XXXXXXXXXX

Caleb had come into town the day before and after an initial visit to the hospital, he was spending his time investigating the events in the house. He stood in the doorway of Dean's room, quietly watching his friend talk to his son.

"John." he said, walking all the way into the room. "How's he doing?"

"Coma." John said quietly.

"I'm sorry."

"He's going to be fine." John said.

"Let's talk outside."

John followed his friend. "Have you found something out?"

"I found a couple of the old guys from the cult, or whatever it is. One of them was willing to talk a little bit and he told me that there were originally nine of them, plus Border. Ever since Border died, the rest of them have been having health problems."

"They're old."

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, but this started right after he died. Only seven of the nine are still alive and, like you suspected, they're afraid of dying with their benefactor still pissed off at them. The one thing we were wrong about was Jackson. He was against what his father was doing, but not for the reasons we thought. He wanted to do something more than have successful crops."

"What did he want?"

"The guy I talked to didn't know specifically. All those people that have been dying over the years haven't gone to waste; Jackson has been using them for his own purposes. But he wasn't sacrificing them to the same – thing – so this group killed him."

"That is one messed up town."

"It is." Caleb agreed. "He wouldn't tell me what they were making the sacrifices to, but my guess is that whatever it is was in the house when you and Dean were there. It wanted to stop you."

"It damn near killed my son." John said with a quiet anger. "I want it destroyed."

"I'm already on it."

"I should be out there helping you."

"You should be here with Dean." Caleb said. "Actually, you should be back at the motel taking a shower and getting some sleep."

John said nothing.

"I rented a room here in town." Caleb dug the key from his pocket. "Take this, go get some rest. I'll stay here with Dean."

"I already lost one son." John said. "I can't – I won't – lose another one."

"Go to the motel, John. I'll call you if anything changes here."

"Do you have your research?"

"John – "

"Do you have the research?" John demanded.

"I left my journal in the motel room."

John nodded. "I'm going to talk to Dean and then I'll go."

Caleb watched as John slowly walked back into his son's room. He stood next to the bed and put his hand on Dean's arm.

"Dean, I'm going to take off for a little while, but Caleb is going to be here with you. I won't be gone long, Son."

He waited for some response, any response, but he got nothing. Sighing, John left the room. Caleb put a hand on his shoulder as he walked past; John nodded but didn't stop.

XXXXXXXXXX

John went to the motel room only long enough to get the journal. He looked through it while sitting at a diner down the street from the hospital. He read the latest entries, then compared them to something from several years ago in his own journal.

"Damnit." he threw a few dollars on the table and rushed out to his car. He pounded his fist on the steering wheel, trying to work out some of his frustration, before putting the key in the ignition and going back to the hospital.

_TBC_


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. _

_And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: There is one more chapter after this one. I'm not sure I'll have the chance to go through it and post tomorrow so I thought I'd get this one up. I don't want two days to go by without an update and I hope you don't either, LOL!_

_I appreciate the feedback; keep it coming! _

**Father and Son**

**Chapter 8**

"John, what are you doing back here already?" Caleb asked when John walked into the room.

He put his hand on Dean's head. "Don't worry, Dean. I'm going to take care of this. Just hold on, Son."

He motioned for Caleb to follow him as he walked back out to the hallway.

"I read your journal and it reminded me of something. I can't believe I didn't think of this, but when Dean was 12, I took him with me to purify a house. It was supposed to be simple, but I'm finally starting to wonder if there is such a thing. The house was about fifteen miles from where we were living at the time and was rumored to be haunted. I thought it would be good training for Dean."

"What happened?"

"The house was owned by someone from out of state. It was a rental; maintained by a property management company. They couldn't keep a renter more than a few months and when I found out about it, no one was living in it. When we got there, I could see someone was using it."

"I don't understand."

"It was clear someone had been there recently. I found discarded food containers and a sleeping bag. At first I thought it was a vagrant, but I made sure no one was home before we started the ritual. It started to get pretty violent all of a sudden, so I took Dean back to the car - I was worried if I didn't finish what we'd started, something bad would happen. The purification ended up being an exorcism."

Caleb waited for John to continue.

"I didn't find out until later that the person using the house was a lawyer who was suspected of being a pedophile and serial killer – he used it to store files of information on the children he was stalking and would eventually kidnap and kill in the basement. If I'd known about him, I never would have taken Dean."

"Of course not." Caleb agreed.

"Turns out he was possessed by a demon, but I didn't know that then. I found out later, after more research." John's expression changed as he remembered the events of that night. "Dean came back inside without me knowing. It wanted him, Caleb, and it almost had him. He was pinned against the wall, just like I found him a couple days ago."

John sighed heavily. "I didn't know what else to do, so I continued the ritual. Dean fell to the floor and I grabbed him. I just grabbed him and ran. I took him to Jim's and he was fine the next day. He didn't remember a thing. Jim took care of the boys while I went back to the house to finish the job. I looked through the files - I found one on Dean."

"What?"

"It wanted Dean then and it wants him now."

"How can this possibly be the same thing, John? Spirits that accept sacrifices for crop success don't generally possess lawyers and make them kill children."

"The Borders were killing kids, Caleb. Every single death was a boy under the age of 12. Look at your own research."

"In case you've forgotten, John, Dean is 21."

"I haven't forgotten." John muttered. "But there are just too many similarities between the two cases; I could have written everything in your journal because the same information is in mine."

"Damn." Caleb groaned. "Why does it want Dean?"

"I don't know. I'm not even sure what demon it is, but I want to kill it. Tonight."

"How are you going to kill it if you don't know what it is?"

"You know as well as I do that there are spells, traps – I don't care what I have to do. I'm not having this thing come after my son again."

Caleb nodded. "I'll help you."

"No. I need you to stay with Dean."

"John, Dean is safe here. You're going to need help; you can't do this alone."

"Yes, I can." John's expression softened. "I don't want to take any chances. I know you can protect him if it comes to that."

"Let me make a phone call – get someone else in here. This can wait until tomorrow."

"No, it can't. What if Dean's condition is somehow connected to this thing? If I kill it, Dean might come out of the coma."

"And maybe it's just a normal, every day kind of coma."

"Maybe it isn't."

Caleb thought about it, then nodded. "All right. I don't like it, but I'll do what you want."

"Thank you." John said softly.

Caleb put a hand on John's shoulder. "I'll take care of Dean. You take care of yourself."

XXXXXXXXXX

John drove back to his motel room and gathered the supplies he thought he might need. He was aware of many ways to defeat a demon, even without knowing exactly which demon he was dealing with. He considered the various options while driving from the hospital, and decided an exorcism would work best.

With a permanent marker, he drew specific symbols on the outside walls of the house. The symbols would allow the demon inside the house if it wasn't already there, but would trap it inside so he could exorcise it. Next, he placed small bags of herbs in strategic locations throughout the house. When all the preparations had been made, John pulled a book from his duffle bag and started to read the proper incantation. There was more than one that would work, but he chose one he'd practically memorized in case things got violent or he somehow lost his hold on the book.

Generally an exorcism was best performed with more than one person in the room, but John honestly believed that Dean's condition was somehow related to the demon. He wasn't altogether sure his son would be safe in the hospital alone, but he knew that Caleb would do whatever was necessary to protect him.

John didn't think about it often, but Caleb and Jim were his best friends and both of them would give their lives for his children. They would also give up their lives for him if necessary, and he felt the same way about them. They had been so much help since he'd plunged into this paranormal life, both with his education and with his training, and in a strange way, they were all part of a family.

He paused briefly when the energy in the room changed. He looked around and even though he saw nothing, he knew the demon was with him. He quickly went back to reading and the room went dark. He moved closer to one of the candles he'd placed around the room; although he didn't really need the light. The temperature dropped and a fierce wind blew through the room, the remaining glass in the windows being shattered inward. John held up an arm to protect his face but continued to read without benefit of the candles.

As he started the incantation again, the book was ripped from his hands and thrown across the room. The wind increased and John felt himself losing his footing. He couldn't stop himself from being pushed into a wall. He wondered if this was how Dean felt before he was pinned and lost consciousness. He didn't try to fight physically, but kept repeating the words that would put an end to the demon.

He felt claws rip into his flesh, but still he saw nothing. Even when he started to bleed, he saw nothing. He gritted his teeth and struggled to get away from the wall, the words still flowing from his mouth.

The pain of the claws was becoming unbearable, but still John fought. There were noises all around him; he heard voices whispering and others yelling. He heard crashes in distant rooms. There were flashes of light and more than once, John thought he saw another person in the room.

Finally all was quiet, but he didn't feel like the house was empty. Free of whatever had been holding him, John grabbed the book and duffle bag, then ran out of the house. He doused as much of the outside in gasoline as he could then, standing near the back door, he lit a match and set the house on fire. He watched it burn for a moment before tossing lit matches onto other parts of the house. He stood next to his car, watching the flames.

He caught a glimpse of a dark figure in one of the upstairs windows and felt like they were making eye contact.

"You haven't won." he heard inside his head. "I'm not the only one."

John shuddered uncharacteristically. Once he was certain the house would completely burn, he got behind the wheel of his car and drove away. In his motel room, he called Caleb's cell phone.

"John." Caleb answered the phone.

"How's Dean?"

"How soon can you be here?"

John didn't hesitate. "I'm on my way."

XXXXXXXXXX

Caleb saw John as he walked into the ICU and met him outside Dean's room.

"What's going on?" John asked, frantically.

"He had a seizure right before you called, but he's stable again. The doctor wouldn't tell me anything, but he said he'd come to talk to you when you got back."

"Find him. I'll be in Dean's room."

_TBC_


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. _

_And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: Well here ya go; the last chapter. Thanks for the feedback and I hope you like how this ends up. As always, thanks to Beta Kel!_

**Father and Son**

**Chapter 9**

John walked quickly to his son's side and touched his arm, then cupped the side of his face in his hand.

"Dean, it's your dad. I finished the job we came here to do; I've got a lot to tell you about what happened, but you have to wake up first." John smirked. "What if I ordered you to wake up? Would that make a difference?"

He smoothed Dean's hair. "This thing – it's been after you for a long time, but I got rid of it. It's all over now, Son, and it's safe to wake up."

John glanced toward the door when he saw the doctor. He briefly turned his attention back to his son. "I'm going to talk to your doctor, but I'll be right back. I'm going to be just outside the door, Dean."

"Mr. Lewis, I'm Dr. Granville. The doctor that's been treating Dean isn't on duty tonight."

"How is he?"

"He's stable and his vital signs are very strong. Seizures are not uncommon for patients who have head injuries, and unless he has more, I don't think we need to anything more than continue to monitor him."

John nodded. "So he's no worse off than earlier?"

"Not at all."

"But no better."

"No, I'm sorry."

John glanced back toward the room. "How long can he stay this way?"

"Comas generally don't last very long, but they can. I'm sorry, but there's just no way to predict. As long as he remains strong, there's no reason to think he won't come out of this."

"What about brain damage?"

"Well, it is possible, but none of the tests we've performed so far show any indication of brain damage."

"Thanks." John said quietly.

"I'll check on him again in a little while."

John nodded, then returned to his son's room.

XXXXXXXXXX

"John?" Caleb walked into the room a few hours later. John looked up and could see the beginning of sunrise outside the window.

"Why don't you go get some rest? I'll stay with him."

John shook his head.

Caleb put a hand on John's shoulder. "You're exhausted."

"I can't leave him."

"I'll be here. You need to get some sleep or you're not going to be any use to Dean."

Dean looked at his son.

"You know you can trust me, John."

"It's not a matter of trust."

"I'm not going to argue with you about this, but I am going to get my way." he squeezed his friend's shoulder. "One way or another."

"You'll call if something happens?" John asked after a few moments.

"You know I will."

John sighed. "All right."

Caleb walked with him to the doorway. "You also might want to think about calling Sam."

"I can't call Sam. He'd be here in a second if he knew Dean was in the hospital and if he leaves school before he's gotten a real start, he'll have too a hard a time going back."

"You're not avoiding calling him because of the fight, are you?"

"Not entirely." John said. "I'll be back in a few hours. Call me if something happens."

XXXXXXXXXX

John took a shower then practically fell into bed, sleeping fitfully for a few hours. After getting dressed, he drove to the Borders' house, passing two fire trucks on his way. The house had been completely destroyed, but as he wandered around the ruin, he noticed doors leading to an underground basement. He made sure he was alone before picking the lock and opening the door. Flashlight in hand, he descended the stairs.

It was obvious no one had been in the basement for a long time. It was full of boxes, trunks and discarded furniture among other things. He looked around, but found nothing of any particular interest. He considered burning the contents of the basement, but decided to perform a simple purification ritual. The Borders and all the paranormal activity connected to them, was at an end.

He leaned against his car looking in the direction of where the house had stood, but he wasn't seeing anything. He thought about the Borders and how their fighting had transcended life and followed them in death. He didn't want that to happen with him and his sons.

He nearly jumped when his phone rang a few minutes later.

"Caleb –"

"Dean is waking up, John. He's asking for you."

Tears sprang into John's eyes. "I'll be right there."

XXXXXXXXXX

After a brief consultation with Caleb and the doctor, John walked into Dean's room. His son's eyes were closed, but the respirator was gone and color was returning to his face. John laid a hand on the side of Dean's face and heard his son moan.

"It's okay, Son, it's just me." John whispered, leaning close to his ear. "You can relax."

"Dad?" his voice was weak.

"Yeah, Dean. It's Dad."

"Where's Sammy? He okay?"

John paused, but realized Dean was probably asking about his brother out of habit. "Sammy's fine, Dean. Can you open your eyes for me?"

"What?" Dean's brow furrowed.

"Open your eyes, Dean. Can you do that?"

Slowly, Dean's eyes opened, but they were unfocused.

"Dad –"

"I'm right here, Dean." John said, squeezing his arm.

"What happened?"

"Do you know where you are?" John asked.

"Hospital." he answered, looking confused. "Already told doctor that."

John reached for the chair and pulled it closer to the bed.

"Sammy –" Dean started.

"He's fine, Dean. You can talk to him later."

XXXXXXXXXX

Caleb talked John into leaving the hospital when Dean fell asleep. Exhausted and confident Dean would be all right, he let Caleb lead him downstairs. It was the first decent night of sleep John had gotten in quite a while.

XXXXXXXXXX

The doctor was reviewing files at the nurses' station when John arrived the next morning. He warned John that Dean would be easily confused and agitated, but that kind of behavior was normal following a head injury and wouldn't be permanent. He also said that Dean was being put on solid food and, if the tests scheduled for later that day were normal, there was no reason he couldn't be released the next afternoon. There were no lasting effects from the surgery that would cause any problems.

John was happy to see Dean sitting in a wheelchair at the window. Since his release was scheduled for the next day, they weren't planning to move him out of ICU, and a nurse told John he could take Dean outside as long as he used the wheelchair.

"Dean?" John called as he walked into the room. "How are you feeling?" Dean turned to look at him, smiling.

"Hey, Dad. I'm fine. I'd like to get out of here."

"The doctor said you can probably leave tomorrow." John said. "How would you like to get out of this room for a while, though? It's warm outside."

Dean nodded. "Okay."

John pushed the wheelchair through the halls toward the walkway outside. They stopped as far from the hospital as they could get and still be on the grounds. After locking the wheelchair into place, John sat down on a bench.

"Do you remember what happened?" he asked Dean.

Dean looked thoughtful. "We went back to the house – I know something came after me. I'm sorry, I let you down."

John saw the expression on his son's face; it was a mixture of shame and sadness. After the last few days of not knowing whether Dean would live or die, seeing him beat himself up over something out of his control tore at his heart. That was a relatively new feeling for John. He knew there were things out there that would stop at nothing to get the Winchesters. They had to be better than most, but now and then, he remembered that his sons were still very young. They were also all he had left and when he let himself think about it, he knew Mary would not approve of how he'd raised them. He had actually been thinking about that quite a bit as he sat by Dean's bed waiting for him to wake up.

"You didn't let me down." John said.

Dean looked at him, trying to read his expression. Normally there would have been extra training and John's wrath to endure after a failed job and Dean wasn't sure how to handle John's reaction.

"But –"

John held up a hand. "No buts. We didn't know exactly what we were up against. There was a lot going on in that house, and my research was incomplete. What happened there was my fault and I'm just glad that –" he blinked back tears, realizing again what could have happened.

Dean looked confused. "Dad, where's Sammy? He hasn't been here and –"

Still lost in his own thoughts, John was surprised when Dean started to get out of the wheelchair

"Where are you going? You need to stay in the chair."

"Where's Sam? Did he get hurt? Is –"

John caught Dean as he lost his grip on the chair and nearly fell. Dean tried to fight him, but even at full strength, he was no match for his father. John settled him back in the chair, promising him that Sam was fine.

"Dean," John looked him in the eye. "Sam went to California. Remember?"

He looked confused, then stared at John. "You told him not to come back."

John glanced away. It was not the time for this discussion.

"Look, you can yell at me later. Right now you need to concentrate on getting better so you can leave tomorrow."

Defeated, Dean slumped in the chair and for a moment, John thought he might cry. He couldn't remember the last time Dean cried; he didn't even cry when his mother died. Dean refused to look at him and John was about to take him back to his room, when Caleb found them. He looked from Dean to John and wondered what he had missed.

"Can you stay with him for a few minutes?" John asked.

Caleb nodded.

Standing behind Dean, John put his hand on his head. He walked away a moment later.

XXXXXXXXXX

John was not surprised to get Sam's voicemail when he dialed the cell phone number. Even if he could have taken the call, John knew Sam wouldn't answer the phone knowing it was him calling.

"Sammy, it's your father. I'm calling about Dean. He's going to be fine, but he's in the hospital." John paused. "To be honest, I wasn't going to call you, but I've had a lot of time to think about things and – look, I don't know if I can fix what I did to you, but this isn't about us. This is about Dean. He's being released tomorrow, but he would really like to talk to you. I think he really _needs_ to talk to you. I understand if you don't want to talk to me, but Dean can't have his phone in the hospital…" John stopped talking when he heard the phone beep, ending the recording. He sighed, and walked around for a few minutes before going back to Dean.

XXXXXXXXXX

They sat outside for another few minutes before Dean asked to be taken back to his room. John knew he was angry, but he also knew Dean's behavior was exacerbated by the head injury. He didn't want to tell Dean he'd called Sam since he didn't know if the younger boy would return the call. Dean didn't need that kind of rejection right now.

He'd only been back in his room for a few minutes when an orderly came to take him for some tests. John and Caleb went to the hospital cafeteria to pass the time.

"I called Sam." John said simply. "Dean remembered what happened and got pretty mad at me all over again."

"I know. He told me."

John looked at Caleb over a cup of coffee. "I got voicemail, not surprising."

"Feeling a little guilty for tossing the kid out?"

"I didn't toss him out. He orchestrated an escape." John lowered his gaze. "I just helped."

Caleb looked at his friend. "I've told you that you're too hard on those boys."

John said nothing.

"I understand why you pushed them, but you should have known Sam could only be pushed so far. Dean, too, for that matter." Caleb took a sip of coffee. "But it might not be too late."

XXXXXXXXXX

John sat with Dean again later, but there was little conversation and when Dean drifted off to sleep in the afternoon, John left the room. Coming so close to losing Dean made him think about the fight he'd had with Sam, and he didn't feel very good about it. He thought about their mother and what she would say to John if she had the chance. John told himself he'd only been doing what he thought was best, but with one son in the hospital and the other gone, that did little to assuage his guilt.

He'd just gotten into the car when his cell phone began to ring. He was taken aback at the nervousness he felt when he saw the caller ID display and answered the call.

"Sam –"

"What happened to Dean?"

"He got hurt on a job, but he's going to be released tomorrow. He was in a coma –"

"He was in a _coma_? For how long? And you're just now calling me –" Sam stopped himself. Fighting with his father came naturally, but this wasn't about his father. "Are you with him?"

"No, he just went to sleep. Look, Sam--" John leaned against the car.

"I don't want to have this conversation with you right now. I called for Dean. When will you see him again?"

"I'm coming back to the hospital in a few hours. I can only have the phone on when we're outside, though."

"I'll try to call again later. If you're not where I can talk to Dean, don't answer. If I miss him tonight, I'll call him on his phone tomorrow. You said he was being released?"

"Probably; pending some test results."

"Tell him I called."

John was about to ask Sam how he was doing when the call ended. He sighed and slowly got into the car.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean was in a better mood when John got back in the evening. The test results had come back normal and he was eating solid food; there was no reason not to release him.

"That's great news, Dean." John smiled when Dean told him. "I have more good news."

Dean looked at him, curious.

"I called your brother. He's going to call back tonight, but if he misses you, he'll call on your phone tomorrow."

Dean was surprised. "You called him?"

"Yeah. I told him what happened to you; the short version, anyway." John said. "Do you want to go sit outside where I can have the phone on?"

Dean's eyes lit up.

XXXXXXXXXX

They'd only been outside for a few minutes when John's cell phone started to ring. He checked the caller ID, then handed the phone to Dean and walked away.

"Sam?"

"Hey, Dean. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm being held captive in this stupid place but I get out tomorrow. You get to California all right?"

"Yeah, I'm all settled and classes are good. So, tell me what happened."

"I don't really remember much of it, but Dad finished the job."

"Yeah, whatever."

Dean hesitated. "Sam? About that fight you and Dad had – look, I just want you to know that I wasn't siding with him, okay?"

"I never thought that. You couldn't very well say anything with him going nuts on me like he was."

"So we're okay?"

"Always." Sam promised.

"And Dad?"

"We'll see, Dean."

Dean was going to say something more, but decided there was plenty of time to fight this battle. For now, it was enough the he and Sam were all right.

_The End_


End file.
